


When You're Still Waiting For The Snow To Fall

by JenNova



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, First Kiss, M/M, Mystery, Resurrection, quiet romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenNova/pseuds/JenNova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles start building a relationship without complications - but the supernatural carnival that is their lives can only leave Beacon Hills alone for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally mooted by me (to myself) as a FLUFFSPLOSION fic and, yeah, it's still likely to be fluffy. Just with a side of angst. Just a little one.
> 
> Rating will eventually go up but I'm setting it at Teen to be safe for now.
> 
> Title from Christmas Lights by Coldplay.

Stiles had lost count, over the years, how many times Derek had slung an arm over his shoulders, or around his waist, and leaned briefly into him. It was always quick, a touch of comfort, and Stiles took from it what he needed and was thankful for it. Derek didn't seek out touch but gave it freely if he thought someone needed it.

Stiles needed it a lot toward the end of high school.

When he came back from college on break Derek would say hello, and squeeze his shoulder briefly, and that would be it more or less. They had an active e-mail correspondence but were still pretty bad at talking to each other rather than across each other. Scott had made his peace with Derek which meant he felt safe making fun of Stiles for still e-mailing Derek when they were in the same town.

It wasn't that Stiles didn't want to talk to Derek, in fact as the years went on he wanted more and more to able to talk to him outside of life and death situations without feeling like a teenager again, it was that he had a lot of weird Pavlovian reactions to Derek and it made actually talking to him really difficult. From the way Derek never pushed it he had a feeling Derek felt the same way.

Derek changed over time – the more years Beacon Hills went untroubled the more tension seeped from his shoulders - but the air of awareness never really want away. It was something Stiles shared with him, fits of hypervigilance now as common to him as breathing, and they acknowledged it with brief nods and shrugs each time they were startled by a loud noise.

The point was that, coming back from college a fully graduated expert in something nobody cared about, Stiles thought he had a handle on the relationship he and Derek had. They were definitely friends, you couldn't spend that much time making fun of people over e-mail without being friends, and Stiles would go so far as to say they were pretty close. Derek found it easier to open up about all the shit he'd been through in typed words and he was now the only person other than Scott and Stiles' Dad that knew the true extent of Stiles' mental foibles.

Stiles knew that Derek had been working his way into the minor leagues out east before coming back to Beacon Hills. Derek knew that Stiles had had ambitions about that too before it became clear that he never really got along with organised sports despite how much he wanted to. Stiles knew that Derek went on a year long sex and alcohol bender after he turned twenty-one, right up until Laura literally threw him in a lake to sober him up. Derek knew that Stiles' sex desperation had been more about being alone than the act itself by the end of high school, there was a reason he fell in love with people that weren't interested in him.

Derek wrote about Laura and Stiles wrote about his Mom which led to Derek sending him long e-mails filled with anecdotes about his family. It was fascinating because Stiles had no real experience of big families – his extended family lived out of state so he rarely saw them – and it was fascinating because it was Derek. It was easy, too, talking about painful things through the internet – Derek wasn't the only one in the friendship who was terrible at talking about personal shit.

They were friends, good friends, and Stiles never would've imagined it when he was sixteen – couldn't have imagined it even when he was leaving for college – but it made him content in a way he really wasn't used to experiencing.

He guessed he should've realised what that meant – what it all meant, the long e-mail threads and the easiness of sharing – but he didn't until the second week he was back home. He was taking a break from visiting the Beta Three and standing on the porch of Derek's new house when Derek came up behind him and insinuated himself into Stiles' space, arms sliding around his waist and chin coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” Derek asked quietly when Stiles went still from surprise.

“Yeah,” Stiles said after a moment because, yeah, it really was.

Derek let out a soft sound and tilted his head so that their cheeks rubbed together. Stiles wasn't really used to the feel of stubble against his skin but he figured he could get used to it. If Derek wanted him to.

“Why?” Stiles asked, leaning into Derek's embrace a little.

“Got tired of fighting it,” Derek said after a minute where Stiles thought he wasn't going to answer at all.

That explained a whole lot about their entire relationship to be honest – if Derek was struggling with something like this all along. Stiles knew about Kate, knew that Derek had fought off having real feelings for anyone else since, knew how hard it would be for him find himself feeling something again.

“What do you want?” Stiles asked, placing his hands over Derek's and twisting their fingers together.

“Don't really know,” Derek said, turning his head for a moment so that he could touch his nose to Stiles' cheek. Stiles found it weirdly endearing. “Can we go slow?”

“We can go as slow as you like,” Stiles said, squeezing Derek's hands. “Whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Derek said, squeezing back. “I think it's going to take a lot of time.”

“I've got plenty of that,” Stiles said. He let go of Derek's hands and turned in the circle of his arms so he could see his face.

Derek was looking away and down slightly, his face open and vulnerable, and Stiles felt the corners of his mouth twitch up slightly. He liked the idea of Derek being just as lost over this as he was. He raised a hand and brushed his fingers against Derek's jaw, coaxing him gently around. Derek looked afraid Stiles was going to kiss him but Stiles knew him well enough to know it really wasn't the time for that, wouldn't be the time for it for a while.

Instead Stiles leaned in and nuzzled their noses together, smiling when he felt Derek relax against him, before pulling him in for a hug so long it would be more correct to call it an embrace. Derek's shirt was worn and soft under his hands and Stiles distantly recognised it as one of the many he'd loaned him over the years. He rubbed the material between his fingers before soothing his hands up and down Derek's back, feeling the familiar shape of him.

Derek slid a hand up Stiles back until he could rub his fingers back and forth over the hair at the nape of Stiles' neck. It didn't take long for those fingers to twist and rake into his hair, Derek had made fun of Stiles' hair when it grew out but Stiles was beginning to realise that was a smokescreen for how much Derek liked it. He sort of couldn't wait to find out what else Derek liked about him – but he'd promised he would.

Stiles was actually really great at keeping promises.

–

They built up a pattern of touches. Neither of the packs said anything about it, for once seeming to realise that it was something to be left alone, and Stiles was grateful. He wasn't sure himself what they were really doing or where they were really going but he was happy to let Derek set the pace.

Stiles quickly learned that Derek was actually pretty touch-starved. When he thought about the anecdotes about Derek's family he found it didn't surprise him really – they sounded like they had been very close, very tactile with each other. Kate changed that for Derek, though, made tender touches into something bad in his mind and because of that he reacted badly to it in others.

He still craved it though and Stiles could read that in the way Derek leaned into people's spaces as they moved around him. Even Isaac, and Derek was close enough to Isaac to think of him as a brother, made sure not to touch Derek more than necessary – though he sometimes had a look on his face that suggested he wished he could.

Derek let Stiles into his space little by little and Stiles learned the language of Derek's touches. A squeeze to the shoulder meant _I'm here_. A brush of his hand to Stiles' _be with me_. An arm around Stiles' waist, or ducking under Stiles' arm, _I need you_. A touch of knees meant _thank you_. It was complex and Stiles almost felt like he needed notes. He returned the touches when he could and each one seemed to pull a little more weight from Derek's shoulders.

There was a more private language, too, and Stiles wasn't surprised to find that Derek didn't like PDA. Derek pressed against his side meant _I need you_ in a different way, that he needed Stiles to sit with him and be Stiles as hard as he could. A nuzzle of noses meant _I care about you_ and never failed to make Stiles' skin feel hot. Hugs were reassurance and cuddling, because there seemed to be nothing Derek liked better than tangling them up together, was Derek showing Stiles how much he wanted whatever it was they were doing.

After cracking the language of touch it was suddenly just as easy to talk to him as it was to e-mail him and they stayed up all night sometimes – just talking and leaning against each other and occasionally cuddling. Stiles would sleep over, spooned up behind Derek in his bed, and he felt his heartbeat shifting slowly, matching Derek's.

They graduated to watching films and listening to music and Stiles had never really figured Derek for the guy who got ridiculously excited about sharing his favourite band with someone – but he was. He also really liked jazz which was both a surprise and a delight. They watched baseball and Stiles spent a lot of time defending the Mets because Derek was an asshole.

Derek was happier, Stiles could see that, and it looked a lot like he was finally putting his past behind him more than ten years after Kate Argent tore his life apart. The contact happiness Stiles had only ever gotten from his Dad and Scott before started working its way into Stiles' life via Derek too.

–

The day after Halloween Derek knocked on his door at too-early-in-the-morning o'clock and asked if he wanted to go for a walk. Stiles was tired, having volunteered to help run the phones at the station instead of going to any of the parties he'd been invited to, and he blinked at Derek in the thin fall light.

“You're tired,” Derek said, ducking his head and tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. Derek speak for _sorry_.

People who thought Derek didn't really talk either a) hadn't mentioned baseball to him or b) never paid attention to everything he said without speaking. His body was like map if you had the right key.

“Yeah, I am,” Stiles said because lying to Derek was always pointless. “But give me fifteen and we can go for a walk.”

He ushered Derek inside the little ground floor apartment and stepped into his bedroom to dress, layering up against the chill air he'd felt when he opened the door. When he came out Derek had made him coffee and Stiles took it with a smile and a touch of his nose to Derek's. Derek pulled him in with one arm around his waist and rested his head on Stiles' shoulder while Stiles drank.

It was quiet and perfect and Stiles was once again reminded that he didn't care how long it took them to get where they were going.

Stiles ducked his head to rub their cheeks together briefly, _thanks_ , before setting down his empty mug and heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“Okay,” Stiles said starting to feel awake. “Let's go.”

He accepted the scarf Derek held out to him even though he didn't think it was that cold outside. He knew he'd be grateful eventually because Derek's walks tended to last half the day.

“How was the Halloween shift?” Derek asked, bumping their elbows together as they walked. _I'm here, see me_.

“Busy,” Stiles said with a shrug. “Not as bad as it could've been, thanks to the Friendly Neighbourhood Werepatrol, but still busy.”

“I asked you to stop calling us that,” Derek said, but the smile in the corner of his mouth took the heat out of it.

“Hey, if the boot fits,” Stiles said, smiling when Derek's smile broke involuntarily. Derek the secret Pixar fan was one of Stiles' favourite discoveries of the year.

“Did you guys have any trouble?” Stiles asked. Derek shook his head.

“All quiet,” he said. “Erica scared the shit out of a bunch of guys outside one of the clubs.”

“Of course she did,” Stiles said, laughing. “Full wolf or just fangs and claws?”

“Full thing,” Derek said, mouth twitching upward again. “Sideburns, no eyebrows. It was hilarious.”

“Man, I wish I could've seen,” Stiles said, passing a hand over his face. “Being a responsible adult means missing out on all the fun stuff.”

“Pretty sure Boyd got video of it on his phone,” Derek said, grinning for a flash of a second.

“That's why he's my favourite,” Stiles said, ducking away when Derek moved to poke him in the side.

“We would've called if we had any trouble,” Derek said after a beat and Stiles felt a little bloom of warmth in his heart.

They'd had precisely one argument since Stiles came back, because it turned out that _all_ their problems before had stemmed from Derek's attraction to Stiles and inability to deal with it like a human person, and that was about Stiles' presence in the now rare supernatural shenanigans.

Because, really? Who better to have on your side when weird shit went down than the guy who specialised in myth and folklore at college even though he knew it'd screw him re: future career potential?

Derek gave in. It was sort of amazing to see. Stiles still wasn't over it.

“Well, I'm glad it didn't,” Stiles said, touching a hand to the back of Derek's neck _I worry_. “Just because you have all that werewolf healing doesn't mean I enjoy seeing it in action.”

“Bullshit,” Derek snorted and, yeah, okay, that was a fair point.

“That was before,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “Now I'm a little more invested in you keeping your insides where they belong.”

“I know,” Derek's face went soft for a moment and Stiles felt his heart skip a beat. He didn't need any kind of touch to recognise that look. It was the look of _one day I'll kiss you for that_.

Stiles liked that look.

Their walk led them, as it always did, to the Preserve. Derek liked walking there and Stiles felt like he could see a literal weight lift from Derek's shoulders when ever they went there. Derek would stretch himself out without a single physical movement – just going from tight and tense to relaxed and open with a blink of his eyes and a deep breath.

“Weirdo,” Stiles said, every time, to make sure Derek knew he understood. Their language for each other was completely backwards and Stiles didn't care.

Derek flipped him the bird. In this case it meant _thank you_.

Stiles could almost feel Derek working up to what he wanted to say. The air around them felt heavy with unspoken words and Stiles found himself automatically drawing deeper breaths. Derek noticed because he stopped, touching Stiles' arm _listen to me_ and waiting for Stiles to face him.

“What's up?” Stiles asked, tilting his head very slightly to the side. Derek's shoulders were slightly hunched, which meant he wasn't sure about what he was about to say being received well, and he was staring intently at the tips of Stiles' shoes.

Stiles gave him time, using it to indulge himself by cataloguing every inch of Derek standing before him. Derek was wearing his oldest jacket, the one with sleeves that were slightly too long, and a dark grey Henley underneath it. His jeans were loose for once and actually looked shockingly comfortable. The morning light shadowed Derek's face, making the lines of it look sharper and deeper, and hit off the tips of his hair in golden bursts.

Derek at his most Derek and all the more attractive for it.

“I'm in love with you,” Derek told Stiles' shoes, startling Stiles out of his observations. He didn't look up and Stiles could see the slight tightening of his jaw that meant he was worried.

Stiles let out a long breath and actually touched a hand to his heart because apparently he was the lead of a rom-com or something. Admittedly it did feel a little like his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest so he figured he was justified in the move.

“Oh,” he said softly. “Derek.”

He took a couple of steps forward, until Derek was forced to look up at his face lest he be caught staring at Stiles' crotch, and reached a hand out to Derek. Derek took it and let Stiles pull him in close, putting his other hand on Stiles' waist. Stiles pressed their foreheads together before nuzzling in against him and Derek exhaled quietly.

“Me too,” Stiles said, turning his head so he could whisper the words straight into Derek's ear. Derek shivered and clutched him tighter. “Me too, Derek.”

Derek buried his face in Stiles' neck, an action that had always screamed comfort to Stiles, and Stiles ran his fingers through Derek's hair over and over again, waiting for him to speak again.

“Have dinner with me on Friday?” Derek asked, not raising his head.

“Of course,” Stiles said, pressing their cheeks together again. _Thank you_ but so much more than that now.

Derek raised his head and smiled and it was the smile of the teenager Stiles had found in one of BHHS' old yearbooks. It very nearly broke Stiles' heart because he knew it meant Derek was beginning again. He smiled back, feeling like the guy he used to be – the one that just wanted one attractive person to smile at him like that.

They held hands on the rest of their walk and Derek made Stiles pancakes when they got to the house. Isaac clearly knew something had changed but he didn't comment on it beyond nodding approvingly at Stiles when he sat down to eat. Derek bumped his knee under the table and Stiles smiled across at him.

–

**December 1st**

Stiles woke up with a start, undergoing the brief panic he always fought when he woke up in a bed that wasn't his own, and sucked a deep breath through his nose. The familiar smell of Derek's room settled his drumming heartbeat and he breathed out again.

Derek was watching him.

“Did you just stare me awake?” Stiles asked looking at Derek incredulously. Derek raised one shoulder in a shrug _maybe, maybe not, I'm a cryptic asshole_.

“Isaac says we have to leave early if we want to find a good tree,” Derek said, rolling out of bed. 

Stiles let himself admire the slope of Derek's back and lean lines of his waist for six seconds – he'd found out through trial and error that that was exactly how long he could look before parts of him started to take interest. Actually dating Derek had made it a little harder to rein in his sexual urges but he was doing a pretty good job, Derek was only catching him maybe one third of the time. Stiles got why they were being careful, they hadn't even kissed yet, but unfortunately his body didn't get the message.

“I don't know why we can't just cut down one of the trees on your land,” Stiles said, grumbling as he climbed out of bed with much less grace than Derek. Sure, he'd grown into his limbs finally in college but before his first cup of coffee he was just as uncoordinated as sixteen year-old Stiles.

“Isaac says that wouldn't count,” Derek said, this time with the full shouldered shrug of _I don't know, I don't care_.

“Yeah, well, Isaac says a lot of things,” Stiles muttered. “Most of them bullshit.”

“I heard that!” Isaac shouted from down the hall and Stiles sighed. _Werewolves_.

“You were meant to,” Stiles said, not bothering to raise his voice. Derek laughed, which meant Isaac's reply had been deliberately too low for Stiles to hear. “You both suck.”

Derek's eyes very nearly sparkled like that, something Stiles noticed they did every time he committed accidental innuendo, and Stiles frowned at him. Derek rolled his eyes and crossed the room to Stiles' side, pulling him in and nuzzling their noses together.

“Don't think that'll save you,” Stiles said, shifting awkwardly when Derek rubbed his cheek over Stiles' before trailing his nose down the line of Stiles' throat. “And don't start that unless you want to start something else.”

“Sorry,” Derek said, pulling back and making a suitable accompanying expression. Stiles waved a hand _whatever_.

“You take first shower,” Derek said magnanimously, waving a hand toward the attached bathroom.

“Apology accepted,” Stiles said, smiling. Derek waved him away with another roll of his eyes. He was never as exasperated with Stiles as he seemed but he was really good at pretending.

Stiles showered quickly to resist temptation, and he was pretty sure Derek was completely aware of that, and dried himself in the bathroom before coming back out. It was gratifying, the way Derek's eyes dragged over Stiles' body in the same way Stiles looked at Derek, and never failed to make him feel good inside. Stiles had never worried about his relative attractiveness in comparison to Derek, they both knew how to use what they had to great effect, but it was nice to feel so wanted. Coveted.

Derek passed him with a brief touch of his hand to Stiles' waist – which was one of those touches that meant nothing other than _I wanted to touch you_ \- and Stiles felt his skin burn where Derek's fingers briefly pressed in. He changed into the clothes he'd left at Derek's the last time he stayed the night, Derek had washed them because they smelled of his preferred powder, and sat on the bed to wait for Derek.

There was something in the air, anticipation, and Stiles couldn't tell if it was just the early beginnings of Christmas spirit or something else. He had a feeling he'd find out if he waited for Derek.

He'd gotten good at waiting for Derek over the past months. He had it down to an artform.

Derek emerged from his shower dripping wet and shockingly sexy and Stiles forced himself to show great restraint and looked away. Derek snorted and crossed the room, his bare feet briefly passing through Stiles' line of vision, and Stiles looked up when he was safely in Stiles' blindspot.

The sound of the towel against Derek's skin was a worse temptation than knowing he was in the same room as a naked Derek. Stiles could imagine it – brief glimpses of Derek's skin as he towelled himself off – and it was a really bad thing to imagine because -

“Stiles,” Derek paused and Stiles closed his eyes.

“I know,” Stiles shook his head. “I'm only human, Derek, I can't help it.”

“Stiles,” Derek's voice much closer and Stiles risked opening his eyes.

Derek stood over him, shirtless and with his head cocked to one side. Stiles knew that measuring look, knew it meant Derek was working something out in his head, and found himself holding his breath. Derek nodded to himself, decision made, and put both his hands on Stiles' shoulders before leaning down.

Stiles expected a simple brush of noses so he couldn't be held responsible for the noise he made when Derek kissed him. It was the simplest press of lips over Stiles', a brief slide of wetness, and it made Stiles' entire body light up. Stiles caught Derek's nape in one cupped hand and held him still when he pulled back enough to press their foreheads together.

“Yeah?” he asked, almost going cross-eyed as he tried to meet Derek's eyes.

“Yeah,” Derek squeezed Stiles' shoulders.

Stiles pulled Derek down for another kiss, this time one he was prepared for, and this – this was a _kiss_. Derek's mouth was hot against his own, opening easily when Stiles swept his tongue out, and Stiles could drown in a kiss like this. Which was a really unfortunate choice of words but was exactly the truth. Derek made a quiet, broken sound but it wasn't a bad sound. His hands slid into Stiles' hair and tilted his head back so that Derek could lick into his mouth with luscious slides of his tongue.

Stiles was going to die. He was going to die from kissing Derek. Long before they even got to have sex. To be honest Stiles would happy to have this for the rest of his life because, holy shit, Derek was a _really good_ kisser.

“Wow,” Stiles breathed when Derek pulled back. He brushed their noses together again and made a soft noise.

“Yeah,” Derek's voice sounded wrecked and, oh, Stiles could get used to that sound.

He wasn't even hard, was the beautiful thing, because it had been a kiss about caring – not a kiss to rev him up. Just the thought that Derek was capable of that level of finesse did things to Stiles' insides – he was going to need an hour at least when he got back to his own apartment later. Jesus.

“Guys!” Isaac's voice broke the spell and Derek shifted away, a smile that told Stiles Derek knew _exactly_ how good he was printed firmly across his face.

“Yeah, yeah, coming,” Stiles shouted back. He stood when Derek offered him a hand up and allowed himself an extra ten seconds of staring at Derek while he finished getting dressed.

“No, guys, seriously,” Isaac sounded a little off. “You really need to get down here now.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles and Stiles gave him one of his one-shouldered _I'm an asshole_ shrugs back. Derek rolled his eyes, again, and pulled a shirt on. They made their way downstairs in socks, shoes were kept by the door, and Stiles indulged himself in a little slide as they reached the landing. Derek smacked him gently on the ass, _stop being childish_ , then jumped down the stairs in one bound.

“Now who's being childish,” Stiles muttered, making his way down the stairs like an ordinary person – one at a time.

Derek stopped so sharply when he reached the open doors to the living room that Stiles slammed into his back, making his nose throb for a moment. He shuffled around him, wanting to see what stopped Derek, and his mouth dropped when he saw the woman on the couch. He reached up for Derek's shoulder instantly, curving his hand over the thick muscle there.

She was beautiful. Dark hair braided down her back and green-hazel eyes set in a high cheekboned, slightly angular face. She stood the instant she saw Derek, her eyes wide and surprised, and Stiles knew her – used to see her face behind his closed eyes for months when he was sixteen.

“Laura?” Derek's voice was so small, so quiet and terrified with hope, that Stiles moved into his space instinctively, letting Derek lean against him.

“Hey little bro,” she said, raising one hand in a short wave. Derek sagged into Stiles so heavily that for a moment Stiles actually thought he'd fainted.

“Holy shit,” Stiles said, catching Derek around the waist and pushing him up again. “Holy shit, Derek.”

“I know,” Isaac said, slightly strangled as he looked from Derek to Laura and back again.

Derek was suddenly gone from Stiles' side and in Laura's arms. Despite the bulk he'd gained since becoming the alpha he still managed to look small inside the circle of his sister's embrace. Stiles noted absently that she was solid, which meant she wasn't a ghost, but couldn't get a grip on what was actually happening.

So he defaulted.

“Guess resurrection runs in the family,” he joked, running his hands through his own hair. Derek laughed brokenly into his sister's neck and she looked at Stiles with those wide, wide eyes.

“You'd better call Deaton,” Stiles added to Isaac, who already had his phone out. “Apparently the supernatural carnival is back in town.”


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to be updating tags (character and otherwise) as I go so, y'know, keep an eye on that.

When Derek finally let go of Laura, or maybe it was when she finally let go of him, he found himself staring at her instead. He'd forgotten. The way her face moved when she talked and the way her eyes flicked around at any small sound, checking the safety of every room she was in. The way she would braid her hair after her shower in the morning and chunks of it would come loose throughout the day.

Sometimes she asked Derek to braid it for her when she felt lazy. He was actually pretty good at it.

She looked almost the same as she had the last time he saw her alive – the day after Christmas, after she'd announced she was going back to Beacon Hills to look into something and they'd fought because Derek could see no reason to go back. She hadn't aged but there was something in her eyes that was different – the same thing Derek remembered seeing underneath the madness in Peter's eyes when he came back. He could identify it on Laura the way he'd never been able to on Peter – it was joy at being alive.

“The staring is creepy, D,” Laura said, flicking him between the eyes.

“Don't call me D,” Derek muttered and it was such a familiar call-and-response that he felt his heart seize in his chest. Laura tilted her head, listening to him.

“How long?” Laura asked, taking one of Derek's hands between hers.

“Seven years, nearly,” Derek said, swallowing around the lump in his heart. “Laura – how -”

“I think we should wait for the Doc to get here,” Stiles said, suddenly behind Derek and squeezing his shoulder. Derek felt tension go from his shoulders. “Save Laura from having to tell the story too many times.”

“You're right,” Derek looked up at Stiles and leaned his head against Stiles' arm for a moment. Stiles squeezed again and gave Derek a look that spoke volumes. Derek never ceased to amazed by what Stiles could say with just his eyes.

“Sucks having to repeat,” Stiles said, turning an easy look on Laura.

In his senior year Stiles had been kidnapped by hunters. He'd escaped them while the packs and the entire Sheriff's department had been scouring the county for him. Derek heard from Isaac that Stiles ended up having to tell the story of what happened ten separate times, an edited version for anyone out of the loop on werewolves, and he snapped when Finstock asked him what happened when he got back to school. Got detention for two weeks and benched from lacrosse.

Stiles knew what he was talking about.

“I called Scott,” Stiles said, turning back to Derek. “He needs to be in on this too.”

“Okay,” Derek nodded and Stiles trailed a hand through his hair briefly before crossing the room to speak to Isaac.

“He's your -” Laura left the sentence hanging and there was a slight sparkle in her eye that Derek remembered. He groaned.

“Lau _ra_ ,” he ran a hand through his hair. Laura laughed, looking just as surprised about the sound as Derek was, and Derek hoped this wasn't a dream. He couldn't deal with that.

He'd dreamt about Laura a lot after – after he found her body. Half her body. He dreamt about her dying in the fire just like everyone else and being unable to save her; about the mysterious alpha ripping her apart; about Kate stringing her up and torturing her. Endless new nightmares to go with his old ones.

They changed as things got better – became domestic, like memories of life between – and Derek hated them almost as much as the nightmares. Because he was never going to get that back, no matter what he did, couldn't bring Laura back the way Peter had brought himself back.

“Hey, kiddo,” Laura tugged him forward so he could breathe in her scent, which was exactly as it should be – wood and grass and sunshine. “We'll figure this out.”

“You were dead,” Derek said, muffled against her shirt.

“I know,” Laura said, swallowing loudly. “I'm sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Derek said, pulling back. “Peter -”

“I should've known, I should've seen it,” Laura shook her head. “I shouldn't have left you alone.”

“Nope,” Stiles interrupted from across the room. “We are not having more Hale guilt in this house. No-one could've predicted Peter. No-one.”

Derek reflected that if Lydia and Scott were in the room they'd have a full house of people whose lives were destroyed by Peter's madness. It made him want to dig him up and kill him all over again. Except they'd cremated him the second time – Lydia making noises about it being apt – and spread his ashes thoroughly, not putting it past him to have some kind of back-up plan even for that.

Laura watched Stiles thoughtfully before nodding to him. Laura had always been the best at reading people – understood people almost instantly – whereas Derek had to learn people first. The one time he'd taken someone at face value it hadn't ended well.

Which was a massive understatement.

“You're alpha now?” Laura asked, looking away from Stiles and back at Derek. Derek nodded.

“I wasn't very good at it,” Derek said. He heard Stiles snort and resisted the urge to glare at him. They'd have a conversation about Stiles' eavesdropping habit later.

“Didn't Deaton help you?” Laura asked, surprise in her eyes. Stiles openly laughed and Derek paused to pass a hand over his eyes.

“Deaton isn't as helpful as you think he is,” Derek said. “At least – he wasn't back then.”

 _Cryptic asshole, you mean_ Stiles said sotto voce behind him and Derek suppressed the urge to laugh. At the end of Stiles' junior year, when it got to the point where Derek was sure all of them were going to die even if they _could_ work together, Stiles backed Deaton into a corner with words alone and demanded that he stop the 'cryptic Jedi bullshit'. It didn't really change much – though Deaton _was_ a little more forthcoming – but Derek had a feeling that that was where he stopped seeing Stiles as the kid who'd saved his life multiple times and instead as a man that he could be attracted to.

It had scared the _shit_ out of him. Nothing good ever came from Derek caring about someone.

“We had a kanima problem,” Derek said when Laura tilted her head in the way that meant _explain_. “Then an Alpha Pack problem. A chimera problem. Another Peter problem – don't ask – and more than that. Deaton was helpful maybe sixty percent of the time.”

“Mom always said he was a good ally,” Laura said, shrugging helplessly.

“Maybe he was in peacetime,” Derek said, letting his shoulders sink. “We were at war for nearly three years.”

Derek caught the sound of a car turning onto the track that led to the house and Laura and Isaac turned toward the sound. He heard Stiles mutter _werewolves_ and covered a smile with his hand. Stiles went to wait at the door for Deaton and ushered him into the living room when he arrived.

Stiles walked into someone for the second time that day when Deaton stopped dead in the doorway. Derek winced in sympathy as Stiles rubbed at his nose. Laura stood up beside him, twisting her hands together, and waited for Deaton to speak. Isaac's phone made an obnoxious beeping sound, a tone that had been set by Erica when she got tired of waiting for replies from him, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

“Scott says he'll be here in five,” Isaac said into the silence of the room. Derek noted the slight shift in Stiles' breathing that he could never quiet control – he never got used to Scott and Isaac's friendship.

“You're not a ghost,” Deaton said finally, moving toward Laura. Laura shook her head.

They'd done ghosts last year – it wasn't really something any of them wanted to repeat. Stiles had smelled of sadness for three months afterwards and Derek didn't have the words to comfort him – spoken _or_ written – but the wanting to do it had shed a little light on how he felt about Stiles.

“I woke up in the garden,” Laura said. “Just standing there, like I'd been waiting for something. I don't know where I was or how I got here. I'm really glad I'm wearing clothes though. Super thankful for that.”

“How do you feel?” Deaton asked, reaching out for Laura's hand. Laura let him turn it over and examine it – presumably he was checking for something, God only knew what.

“Like me, I guess,” Laura said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Like I've missed a lot. Like I was dead for seven years.”

Deaton didn't flinch. Actually, Derek was sure he'd never seen Deaton flinch. He had the greatest poker face known to man. Derek knew for a fact because Stiles' Dad had told him after the poker nights he instituted in senior year – Stiles' Dad, Scott's Mom, Deaton and Chris Argent all in one room. Deaton cleared them out every week.

“I meant – are you still an alpha?” Deaton asked, releasing her hand.

“Huh,” Laura said thoughtfully. “I didn't think about checking.”

She shifted then – straight into the wolf form she'd taken a year to perfect – and Stiles' eyes went wide. Great – another round of questions to face over his shifting. Laura's eyes used to be red when she shifted but now they were the same electric blue Derek's had been, that Jackson's were. She shifted back and frowned down at her hands.

“I'm a beta,” she said slowly. “I shouldn't be able to move into wolf form.”

Deaton made a thoughtful noise and Stiles rolled his eyes and drew in a breath. Derek caught his eyes and shook his head. Stiles deflated. Derek felt the faint twist in his gut of Scott entering into range and watched Isaac perk up. Laura made a face.

“Non-pack werewolf?” she asked, screwing her nose up.

“Scott,” Stiles said before Derek could. “The other alpha of Beacon Hills.”

“That's really weird,” Laura turned to Derek. “Why is he -”

“It's a _really_ long story,” Stiles said, spreading his hands. “One that can wait until we figure out what's going on.”

“Got here as soon as I could,” Scott said breathlessly as he burst through the front door. He must've run the whole way. “What do I have to – AH!”

Scott started violently when he saw Laura, much to Stiles' amusement, and Derek had to hide another smile behind his hand. It never stopped amusing him how even after nearly seven years of dealing with supernatural stuff Scott could still be shocked by things.

“Nice to meet you too,” Laura said. She looked at Derek sideways, _what the hell_ , and Derek had to stifle a laugh.

“Laura's back,” Stiles said, swinging an arm over Scott's shoulders. “Surprise!”

Scott stopped clutching his chest like he thought he was going to have a heart attack and looked at Laura for a long time before looking at Stiles with a half-grin.

“It runs in the family?” he said and Stiles laughed and ruffled Scott's hair before pulling away.

“Just what I said,” Stiles said, bouncing slightly on his feet.

Laura shot Derek a hard look and Derek shrugged at her, spreading his hands. He wasn't responsible for Stiles and Scott's unfortunate shared sense of humour. Laura rolled her eyes at him and turned back to Deaton.

“So what do we do, Alan?” Laura asked and Derek blinked. He hadn't known she was on first name basis with him. Then again – there was a lot he didn't know about the weeks between her leaving and finding her body in the Preserve.

“I think you should come with me so I can do a few tests,” Deaton said. “And I can look at a few books I have. Stiles, I suggest you call Miss Martin and ask her to look through her own collection.”

“Yeah, as soon as she's out of class,” Stiles nodded. He had everyone's schedules memorised, just one of those things he kept in his head, and Derek was surprised by how often it was useful.

Lydia was working on a math doctorate and working as a TA as she did it. She was the only member of the packs still at college but she came back to Beacon Hills if they really needed her. She'd taken to collecting bestiaries after finishing the translation of the Argents' late in junior year. She had the money for it, she said, and she found languages interesting. Derek heard the collection was thirty books at last count.

“Is that okay, Derek?” Laura asked and Derek was startled. Laura had never asked for his permission in her life. He opened his mouth to say just because he was alpha didn't mean she had to ask but then he caught the expression on her face.

 _Oh_.

“Yeah,” he said, standing to give her a hug. “It's probably the best idea.”

“All right,” she said, giving him a small smile. “We'll be in touch.”

“Oh!” Stiles almost jumped on the spot. “Wait there.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, banging drawers open and shut and rummaging around. _Where's the -_ Derek heard him say and knew what he was asking.

“Drawers by the sink,” he said, raising his voice loud enough for Stiles to hear. “Third one down.”

Stiles returned with Derek's old phone and its charger. Derek didn't even know how Stiles knew that he still had it but it didn't really surprise him. Stiles knew a lot of stuff. He was used to it.

“It should still work,” Stiles said, handing it to Laura. “It's only in a drawer because Derek seems to have a compulsion about buying a new phone every year.”

“Compulsion,” Derek repeated flatly, shooting Stiles a look. “The compulsion that comes from every phone I've had getting ruined in something that was your fault?”

“Hey!” Stiles objected, making the face that Derek recognised as meaning _rude_. “Some of the time it was Scott's fault.”

Scott looked like he was going to object for a moment but shrugged instead, as if saying _fair point._

“And it hasn't been like that for years, anyway,” Stiles added.

“Old habits die hard,” Derek said with his own shrug. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You'll need to get a simcard,” Stiles said, turning back to Laura. “There's a place on Beech that does short-term stuff. It's on the way to the clinic.”

“Okay,” Laura nodded, tucking the phone into a jacket pocket. It looked a lot like the jacket Derek had bought her that last Christmas – but he'd burnt it after he buried her.

“I'll see you -” Laura stopped, her eyes widening and Derek barely suppressed a shudder. _I'll see you soon_ had been the last thing she'd said before leaving for Beacon Hills. He'd had texts and voice mails (he refused to answer the calls because, in hindsight, he was sulking) but that'd been the last time he'd heard her voice in person.

“- soon,” Derek finished for her, nodding. She smiled back, tentative around the edges, and Derek felt something in his heart ease.

There was silence after Stiles left to show them to the door and Derek could feel Isaac staring hard at the back of his neck. He opened his mouth to ask him what he wanted when Isaac cleared his throat and moved around into Derek's eyeline.

“We can get the tree another day,” he said, smiling in the way that had only become easy for him in the past few years.

Isaac grabbed Scott's arm on the way out and Scott went easily, throwing one last look of – what? Support? Something like that – Derek's way. Even a few years ago Derek would've bristled at that look on Scott's face – still too pissed off about everything that went down during the high school years – but now it actually made him feel good, he was finally in the place where he and Scott supported each other without any kind of quid pro quo.

“So,” Stiles returned to the living room and leaned against the doorway, folding his arms and tucking his hands under his armpits. “That was a trip.”

“Yeah,” Derek let himself sag, let the strain of holding himself together go out of his body all at once. Stiles watched him closely and Derek had never managed to pinpoint when that went from irritating to thrilling.

“You okay?” Stiles asked. There was more in the question than that – the words _actually okay, don't lie to me_ hanging in the air between them – and Derek took a moment to think about it.

“No,” he said, because he wasn't, because his sister was back from the dead, apparently, and nobody knew why. He used to make fun of characters in TV shows freaking out when a dead relative came back – why wouldn't you be thrilled by it? - but now he got it.

There must be nothing more terrifying than thinking you have someone back only for it to turn out to be a lie.

“We'll figure it out,” Stiles said, opening his arms and waving Derek forward. Derek let himself take strength from the embrace, let Stiles' care for him soothe away some of the worry. “And, hey, it could turn out to be a Christmas miracle.”

“I don't believe in miracles,” Derek said, mouthing the words against Stiles' shoulder. Stiles' hands stroked slowly up and down his back.

“Scott told me once – back when he and Allison broke up after the shit with Gerard – that when Allison said 'there's no such thing as fate' he said 'there's no such thing as werewolves',” Stiles said slowly. Derek waited to see where he was going with it. Stiles would get there eventually. “I'm not going to say anything ridiculous like that, because you're the one who does the big gestures in this relationship, _Mosby_ , but, you know, given everything we've survived to get to this point – I think we're pretty miraculous already. Who are you to say Laura isn't one more miracle?”

“I love you,” Derek mumbled into Stiles' neck this time. Hearing and feeling Stiles' intake of breath, the way his heart skipped, when he said that never got old.

“Tell me something I don't know,” Stiles said, putting a hand on Derek's jaw and urging him up for a gentle kiss.

It never hurt that Stiles couldn't say it back yet. Derek understood, after all, how hard it could be to say 'I love you' if you had a bad track record with it. Stiles' wasn't quite as bad as Derek's but Derek knew Stiles had been burned a few times at college and, of course, there'd been the Lydia Situation. Derek knew Stiles felt it – even if he hadn't said it Derek could read it in the way Stiles was learning his language and echoing it back with his own spin on it – and he could wait. He'd waited a long time already, after all.

“I hope that's okay,” Stiles said after the kiss broke. He'd been letting Derek steer the relationship, never pushing or demanding more than Derek could give, and he always seemed to worry each time Derek brought something new in.

“Yeah, Stiles,” Derek said, barely containing an ill-timed eyeroll. “It's okay for you to kiss me.”

“Good,” Stiles said, smiling against Derek's mouth. “'Cos I plan on doing it _a lot_.”

True to his word they spent the rest of the day making out in various parts of the house. They'd break sometimes for air and, well, so Stiles could calm down (“Shut up, you know why this keeps happening.” “Are you laughing at me? _Stop laughing at me_ ”) and, on one memorable occasion, so Derek could calm down. Derek's sex drive had been almost non-existent for years – actively wanting to have sex had been an urge he hadn't felt for what felt like a decade – but it was waking up in the face of Stiles' _everything_.

Derek wasn't ready for doing anything with that, and Stiles was being great about it (even though Derek knew he went home sexually frustrated pretty often and ended up jerking off _a lot_ \- Derek could smell it, it was like Stiles was a teenager again), but he had a feeling he would be. Soon maybe. Which was more than he could say for any other person he'd shown interest in since becoming alpha.

They ended the day curled up on the couch watching superhero movies, Derek's comfort viewing, and after a short phone call from Laura saying Deaton was putting her up (“Given everything I figure that's best for right now.”) Stiles decided to stay the night. Isaac texted to say he was going to stay with Erica and Boyd and Derek was absurdly grateful for that.

Stiles stole a kiss when they were brushing their teeth, laughing softly when he transferred some of his toothpaste to Derek's mouth, and it was easy, so easy, to reciprocate; pressing Stiles against the counter and kissing him slow and sweet.

“Just so you know,” Stiles said, curving himself around Derek's back and slinging an arm around his waist when they climbed into bed. “I'm probably going to go and jerk off in one of the other bathrooms when you're asleep.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

“I know, I know,” Stiles pressed an apologetic kiss behind Derek's ear. “But it's not like I haven't done it before and, seriously, given the day we've had I really need it.”

“You don't have to wait for me to be asleep,” Derek said quietly, tilting his head slightly to feel more of Stiles' mouth.

“I know, you can switch off the hearing and all that,” Stiles waved the hand that was draped across the pillow they were sharing. “But it makes me feel better if I can at least pretend you're asleep while I do it. It feels less like I'm, I don't know, intruding.”

“You're ridiculous,” Derek said, grabbing the hand and pulling it down to press a kiss against the palm.

“You love it,” Stiles said, pressing his face into Derek's hair and sniffing slightly. Derek smiled against Derek's palm. “Shut up.”

“I didn't say anything,” Derek said, releasing Stiles' hand and wriggling into the blankets a little more.

“You didn't have to,” Stiles said, tightening his arm around Derek's waist for a moment. “You're a loud thinker.”

“What am I thinking now?” Derek asked, brief thoughts of what Stiles was going to do in another bathroom (probably Isaac's because they had a long history of freaking each other out with sex stuff) later.

“Oh, you bastard,” Stiles muttered, pulling his hips subtly away from Derek's ass. Derek laughed.

Derek fell asleep with a smile on his face, Stiles still grumbling behind him, and it was a mark of how safe he felt, at last, that he didn't wake up until long after Stiles had left the bed to jerk off. He brought his hearing in to just his room and moved a hand down to brush briefly over his own half-hard cock.

Getting there.


End file.
